Unwanted Pressure
by SpaceIsEndless
Summary: She knows she died saving a little boy but that didn't make her immediately qualified to be in the position of the Savior of the magical world. Seriously, who thought of doing that? [OC-insert-fem!Harry;]
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own anything you might recognize. I just own my character and the changes that will eventually happen.**

 **This chapter has been edited slightly. Some things were added. Other small things erased. It's still pretty much the same but with just a couple more things.**

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She can't exactly explain being reborn.

She doesn't remember the exact moment when she went from being dead and _nothing_ to a baby developing inside a uterus and luckily, she also doesn't remember being inside it or coming out. From that, there's only these feelings that she can't explain. Like there was someone with her and then that someone kind of disappeared? or something and then the only thing she could register was bright lights that _freaking_ **_hurt_** her newly developed eyes and then many voices speaking at the same time and she couldn't process what they were saying.

Then, as she began to adjust to the loud voices and was in a pair of safe arms, the memories from her other life came _rushing_ back into her new brain at full force and it _hurt_ _so_ **_much_** that she _screamed_ and _wailed_.

(The memories of her crappy life that was mainly about her being ignored by her parents in favor of her perfect and flawless older sister, failing her exams to enter college even when she studied during countless days because maybe then, her parents would notice her and ending up being thrown to the streets at eighteen to 'make a life for herself and to become more mature', they said and finding a crappy job and after gaining some money, finding a equally crappy apartment. And her death which was, in her opinion, stupid and _stupid_ and just _why did she do it?_ She could've just let the kid be hit by the damn car. It was his own damn fault that he went after the damn ball but _no_. She had go into ' _hero_ ' mode and throw herself at him, pushing him out of the way. Not that she was leaving behind much anyway. Her parents wouldn't even mourn her, she guesses. Her sister? _Maybe_. She did try to get along.

But overall?

There'd be no one to miss her.)

Why did she even get her memories? They're just filled with pain and misery. They'd be good for nothing.

Why was she even reincarnated?

There were _billions_ of other people that the second chance could've been given too. Maybe this is what happens to everyone. Maybe the people who believed in the concept of reincarnation were right after all. But death had been something else. There was no peace or warmth or even the damn Reaper. There'd been just nothingness. She had been nothing and then she was just there, in the world again and being delivered into the arms of her new mother.

And what about consequences? Would there be any?

Because reincarnation was a experience that dealt with death and she'd seen that there were effects to it? Maybe she'd read wrong, since she had read in the internet and didn't have any physical proof.

And then she found out _where_ she'd been reincarnated into.

She'd been a few months old. Maybe five or six? And before that, she spent the time sleeping and eating and being picked up and trying to talk. Nothing else. Just trying to adjust to her new life, in a new place. She didn't even play that much with the toys she'd be given, maybe due to her mental age? But she kept this fluffy dog plushie that this man with dark hair had given her. She had learned that he was her godfather or something from what her new father told her as he rocked her to sleep? She doesn't even know why she kept the plush close to her. It had been so warm and her past life's godfather never really showed much interest in her. So maybe that's the reason?

Anywho, she'd thought that the place she'd been reborn into would be in some other point of the world. Maybe in Africa or Europe or Asia. Somewhere cool and nice where she'd be able to maybe live a nice life for once and actually be happy. Somewhere where she'd learn to talk another language and where she'd actually get to make friends and just live. She learned she had been born in England - at least from the accent of her parents that's what it seemed - and she was a only child.

Imagine her surprise when she finally learned her name and surname.

(" _I want to pick Harry up," her new father - he had this messy dark hair and hazel eyes that were bright being rounded glasses - had declared, reaching out for her as she was safely held in her mother's - dark red hair and the brightest emerald eyes she has ever seen - arms, "I won't let her fall."_

 _She had closed her eyes then, just wanting to sleep and she had imagined her new mother rolling her eyes, as she usually did, "I'm not worried about you letting her fall. I'm worried about you squeezing her too hard like she's a bloody teddy bear. And it's Harriet, not Harry. She's a girl."_

 _"_ _I do_ not _squeeze her that hard," her father had snorted, sounding a tad bit offended and then had tickled her under her chin and she had giggled involuntarily, or maybe it was never involuntarily. She had felt_ _the happiest in their presence,_ _"I can just see that she's going to be a tomboy and she's going to be just like me."_

 _"That still doesn't explain why you're so blatant of calling her Harry and God help us if she's turns out like you, Potter."_

 _And she had frozen up in her mother's arm at the oh so familiar surname that had left her new mother's lips oh so easily and she had proceeded to think about how could it be_ possible _for her to be in a world that wasn't even_ real _and in the body of a female version of the_ main character _and she just can't understand_ why? How?

 _But maybe it wasn't, a part of her had told her. Maybe Potter is just a common name in England and_ maybe _she just coincidentally ended up being reborn in a family with that surname._

 _"Hey, you're a Potter too now, Lily and- uh, she looks like she's about to burst into tears."_

 _But then the name._ Lily _. Her new mother had emerald green eyes and dark red hair. That had been the description of the character in the book. She had the name. And then the name_ Harriet. _Harriet Potter. Harry Potter. And she had heard her mother call her father_ James.

 _It was way_ too _much of a coincidence._

It couldn't be.

 _And she had cried and screamed and wailed some more because she mentally couldn't understand how she had ended up inside a world that only existed inside_ books _and_ movies _and that her and her sister's nanny would read to them and that was loved by millions of people.)_

She still doesn't understand and she thinks that maybe it was something that couldn't be explained.

It was when she had learned her new name and new surname that she thought: did that mean that the original Harry was dead? She had taken his place (how that was _fucking_ possible, she'll probably never know) and that was really, _really_ bad. There was absolutely no way that she was going to be like he was. Hell, their personalities were as different as day and night, except the whole not wanting the whole destiny that had been given to him when he was only fifteen. And also their similar pasts, although he had been abused by his uncle and aunt while she had been emotionally detached with her parents.

And she may have sacrificed her own life to save a little boy's but that did not make her qualified to be in this position.

Hell, she couldn't take care of herself properly before. She had to survive with just the minimal salary of being a waitress and that was not enough to get back fully on track. What made whoever put her in this world _think_ that she could save the world from a dark wizard? Or _would_?

But she has a feeling she'll probably be _dragged_ into it, no matter how much she doesn't want it.

And here she is, about three months after her first birthday, waiting for the moment that put the whole story into motion. The moment where she'll meet her arch nemesis and survive the Killing Curse. She feels sad and angry that could only spend a few months with Lily and James. In this small space of time, she grew _attached_ to the couple. They were the parents that she wishes her other parents had been and they were so young too. They're pretty much fresh out of school. They had their whole lives in front of them to live out with their child and that was taken from them when some psychopath decided to hunt them down to kill their kid. They were her new family and the only people she'd actually consider family because the people she'd be going to in no hell deserved the name of family.

(" _Do you like it?" her father had grinned when he finished his tale about Quiditch. She had smiled back at him because it had been so_ fun. _He had made the sport sound so, so fun and made her want to try it, "I bet you're gonna be the_ best _player of your house, Harry."_

 _"It's Harriet, James," her mother had said, sighing as she had come into the room._

 _"_ _Fine," he had grumbled but he still had his happy grin on his face and he had come closer to her, his glasses nearly touching her nose, whispering, "I know you love it when papa calls you Harry, don't you?"_

 _And because she hadn't known how to reply, she had giggled and grabbed onto his face because_ yes, _she definitely loves it._ )

 _I hate him,_ she thinks to herself as she's being held in her mother's arms, _I finally have a family that loves me and it's going to be taken away from me._

But that's how it has to be. Her new family has to sacrifice itself because of _plot_ reasons. Because she has to survive a deadly curse. Because mother's love - no, actually _it's parents' love because fuck them for just thinking about mother's love. Harry's dad's love for him is also important and whoever disagrees can go fuck themselves_ \- is the most powerful thing in the world.

And as the peace and quiet crumbles around her, the one thing going through her mind is _am I going to die?_

Because she's not Harry. Technically, she doesn't have any magic in her soul? but the body _does_ so does that mean that she does have magic? There were no accidents when she was a baby. Nothing exploding or breaking. She was a pretty quiet baby but she should've, I don't know, felt something? She could feel something around her new parents. She can't quite explain it but she just knows that it has to be their magic so does that mean that if she's sensitive that she has magic?

But if she doesn't, does that mean that the Killing Curse will kill her?

And is it really a bad thing if it _does_ kill her?

The world would have Neville to take the place as the Chosen One, if she remembers correctly. So, it's not that bad really. If death comes again.

But as she's standing on the crib, watching Lily beg and _beg_ with the hooded figure with the red eyes that she identifies as Voldemort and then watching the woman's body fall down to the ground like a rag doll due to a flash of green with a _thud_ so familiar to that of her father's body hitting the floor in the hallway right outside her nursery -

( _her mother's happy and warm and beautiful smile fills her mind and she can also hear her father's laughter and she feels their embraces around them and her eyes_ sting _and so suddenly, she's crying because they're_ dead gone gone)

\- she's suddenly afraid.

 _Afraid of dying._ She actually doesn't want to die again.

Because death is kind of overwhelming. It can happen just like that and your life is taken as easily as it was given to you and that's terrifying to think about and because maybe she wouldn't get reborn again and she wouldn't have the chance to actually live.

And there's hissed words and a flash of green comes straight at her, she closes her eyes and waits for whatever is to come.

* * *

 **I'm crossing a dangerous line with this being a 'OC-insert into the body of a main character thing' but it was bugging my mind so I just decided to write it down. It probably a mess and not make sense but like I said, I needed to get it out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No, I still don't own anything you recognize. Except my own character.**

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The spell hits her but, like she expects but can't exactly explain how, it rebounds on the hooded figure and she hears _him_ screaming in rage or pain, she doesn't know.

She can't explain what happens next. She feels this _horrible_ and **_dark_** thing attach itself to her and she fights it. She had completely forgotten about the bit of Voldemort's soul that ended up inside Harry. At least, she tries to fight as best as she can. It - no, the _soul_. _His_ soul - feels like oil and it's heavy and really, _really_ dark and it tries to overwhelm her body and soul but she fights back as best as she can. It curls around her and squeezes, _his_ dark magic intertwining with this body and she _can't_ **_breathe_** -

And there's this warm feeling washing over her and over her soul and she wonders if this light magic that she's feeling it's this body's or perhaps Lily's magic within her because of her sacrifice rejecting the evil soul.

But it doesn't go away, not completely.

The light magic weakens it to the point that it doesn't fight anymore and the soul goes dormant in the very back of her mind but she still feels it there, its oil like presence. Vaguely, she thinks to herself if it'd have a different reaction to her. It was dormant for the most during the books but she wonders if it'll be the same. Her vision begins to darken, her new tiny body crumbling and succumbing to exhaustion and her eyes lock on the cloak beside her mother's still body. There's nothing underneath it, she realizes. _He_ simply vanishes? She can't remember what exactly happens to him, her memories are a bit foggy concerning the whole story. She knows the basic but some details are completely out of reach.

 _And stay dead_ , she thinks but of course he won't stay dead. According to the story, he'll return in the future but she'll think about it when it comes.

For now, she sees the bushy haired giant that she recognizes almost immediately as Hagrid coming into the room and pick her up as gently as possible.

Feeling safe and trusting him, she shut her eyes and lets the world turn dark.

 _(It was a few moments after Voldemort had vanished. She had been still on her back, too tired to move but hearing footsteps fast approaching, she had tired her best to look towards the doorless entrance of the nursery. A man wearing black robes and with greasy looking long hair had arrived but didn't even as much as glance at her. He had kneeled beside her mother's corpse and picked her up, holding her tightly against him as his body shook with not so well contained sobs._

 _She had then remembered who that man was. Severus Snape._

 _The man that had loved Lily so much and spent his life devoting himself to protecting her son, even if it wasn't the most thought out way. She remembered that there had been a time where, when she first read about him, she had hated him. And when she had learned about the reason behind his actions, she had hated him less but still kind of hated him. Sure, he was a good man in the end but that didn't justify the way he treated students, most importantly Harry and Neville._

 _Nothing he did compensated the fact that he was a bad person all those years before the moment that he was a hero._

 _When he did let go of her mother's corpse, he had stood up, glanced once at her or most likely at her still bleeding scar and then with a sharp turn, he left. She would've sneered if she could. Sure, just leave behind a damn baby. Yup. That's_ exactly _the normal behavior that a human being should have._

 _But then again, if she remembered correctly, someone else was coming for her, wasn't it?_

 _She had gotten her response when Hagrid showed up in the nursery, eyes wide and filled with sorrow and pain and tears._ )

Waking up with a shrill scream, she realized then, is a _lot_ worse than with an alarm.

She supposes it's was a surprise for the Dursleys to find their niece at front of their house, with nothing but a letter but they could be _less_ loud, God fucking damn it. Surprisingly, Petunia Dursley didn't pick her like she was a sack of potatoes or something. She picked her up like the baby she was and she was surprised but still grateful for it. She heard Vernon Dursley bark something like ' _Who left a damn baby in our front door?! Do we look like a orphanage?'_ and she resisted the urge to scream just to make him shut up.

Living with her new 'family' was awkward to say the least. She still got the cupboard under the stairs as a room, they didn't celebrate her birthdays which she didn't mind to be honest, they would feed her somewhat (when they didn't starve her as punishments, which they regularly did) and Petunia was the one that did all the work when she was a baby because Vernon had refused to touch her and little fat Dudley was as annoying and crybaby as he was described. He kept pulling her hair and hitting her with his toys but she didn't pay him any mind. She pretty much ignored him. Her idea was that, maybe if she didn't show any signs of being 'magical' then she'd be treated somewhat better? than in canon. If she could prove that she wasn't a 'freak', then perhaps it'll go better. Accident magical was a big no, no for the plan to work and it'll probably be the easiest part. If she didn't feel angry or threatened, then she'd be fine.

Or so she hopes.

She didn't utter a single word. At home, at least. She did her best to be quiet. She didn't speak or try to pronounce words. She spoke when Lily and James were trying to get her to say Mom or Dad but not anymore. But sometimes, her body's instincts to cry and have a tantrum were bigger and she was not able to control herself (oh, how Vernon _hated_ when she wailed out of nowhere and for some fucking reason, he thought that screaming back at her to shut up would work. Stupid fat man) but no magical stuff happened when she burst out crying like the baby she was.

She wonders once again if she _does_ have any magic _at all_.

She supposes she does because she managed to survive the Killing Curse but there was definitely something wrong.

She'll probably find out when she turns eleven.

Going through primary school was a pain. She had to speak to answer questions and talk about things but she didn't speak except to do those very things.

The kids were these brats that complained about anything and anyone. Some picked on her because she wouldn't speak or because she was always alone. The teachers tried so many times to make her communicate and play with the others and they always complained (although more formally) that she needed to make friends. She didn't pay any mind to them. She didn't feel like she needed any friends. Dudley in school was a lot worse than at home, because at least home, his parents controlled him somehow. At school, he was always chasing her and throwing her to the ground and mocking her, especially when she told the teachers to call her Harry instead of Harriet.

( _"Now, Harriet," her teacher had began saying, touching her shoulder, "I want you to-"_

" _Harry," she had interrupted quietly._

 _Her teacher had faltered, eyes wide for a moment before she had laughed a fake laugh, "But, Harriet honey, Harry is a boy's name. You're a girl."_

" _So?" she had asked, staring straight at the woman._

" _Surely, you don't want to be called a boy's name," the teacher had tried to persuade her, kneeling in front of her._

" _I do," she had replied._

" _But_ why _?" the older woman had asked._

" _Because I am Harry and I don't want to be called Harriet. It's not right."_ )

After that, her cousin had used every chance he could to mock her about her 'boy name' but she couldn't care less.

She didn't feel comfortable being called _Harriet._ This is _Harry's_ story. _Harry's_ place that she took. She took his place even before he was born and she doesn't feel comfortable being called a name that isn't his. Calling her Harriet just makes it seem like she's discarding Harry away and she doesn't want that. Sure, she's a girl and Harry _is_ a boy name but she couldn't care less. She'd use his name. She doesn't care about this world in the way he did and she may make different choices than he did but his name would remain. The only thing that she could do was use his name to make it seem like he was still here; still in his place. And the fact that James had called her Harry when he was alive was a heart warming thought that she kept with her at all times.

The Dursleys didn't prevent her from calling herself Harry. They didn't say anything but Vernon had showed his disgust of her calling herself a boy's name and had sort of mocked her but didn't stop her. ' _If you want to call yourself that then do it! I don't care!'_ he had said. And the fact that for years, until she was about eight or nine, she had to use Dudley's old clothes didn't help. But she got used to the disgusted looks she received from her uncle and the mocking at school because of Dudley. They didn't like her, even when she didn't do anything out of the ordinary and the feeling was mutual. If they couldn't get over the fact of a girl using a boy's name and using boy clothes at that, then they were more childish than she thought.

Petunia… was another story.

She didn't say bad things or insult her. Well, not as much as her husband and son. She still said some bad things when she got annoyed and angry. And yelled a lot. And she still favored Dudley and babied him, obviously but in regards to her, her aunt wasn't exactly as _mean_? as she was described as. There's these times when she found Petunia staring at her when she's writing in this old, unused journal that Dudley got on one of his birthdays and never used and she had picked it up without him noticing that it was gone. She also kept it almost all the times inside the cupboard so he wouldn't find it. She didn't know _why_ her aunt would stare at her like that and when she asked, Petunia just got defensive and didn't answer.

( _She had been five and in the living room, in the couch. Vernon had yelled at her for using and_ contaminate _the couch and it was Petunia that had said that as long as she didn't ruin anything, she could sit there. Needless to say, Vernon had been way too shocked at his wife to say anything back. She had stayed in the couch, writing carefully, to train her writing when she felt that Petunia hadn't exactly left the area. She had looked up to the woman._

" _Is there something wrong, Aunt Petunia?"_ _she had asked with the politeness that wouldn't get her in trouble._

 _The blond woman had turned away, huffing, "There's nothing wrong,_ girl _. There's dishes that need to be cleaned."_

 _"Then why were you staring at me?"_

" _I wasn't staring at you!" Petunia's voice had risen to an hysteric shout, body tensing, "I was just going to ask you to do those dishes!"_

 _She had done what she was asked without saying anything else and she had still been able to feel her aunt's gaze on her back as she worked._ )

Petunia had the habit of staring at her. But seriously, _all the damn time._ She never really understood it.

Maybe it's because she looked like her dead sister? Because, despite everything, she was sure that Petunia loved her sister. So maybe that was why her aunt always stared? Because she looked like Lily? She did have dark red messy hair and the emerald eyes. But she wasn't sure if _that_ would be reason enough for her aunt to stare so much at her. She got used to them eventually and learned to not ask about it. It would lead nowhere.

Then, there were also the times that she had to spend with Mrs. Figg when the Dursleys wouldn't want her to go with them somewhere and didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone inside the house.

She supposed she didn't mind the woman. She wasn't bad and let her watch TV and eat chocolate but she wouldn't do it, instead writing in her journal like usual. Mrs. Figg also fed her when she was hungry and talked about her life on and on. She knew that there was something about Mrs. Figg, something that had to do with watching over Harry, on Dumbledore's orders she suspected? She can't remember exactly but she thought that it was something like that. She also noticed sometimes that Mrs. Figg would watch her intently, like she was expecting her to do some sort of trick or some shit.

Mrs. Figg must've been really surprised when she was as normal as a Muggle would be.

And now, back to the present and to the so expected (but not really) day.

She is turning eleven soon (in about a month) and currently, it was the day that she is going to the Zoo. Everything went pretty much the same. From Dudley whining about the presents to his friend going with them and the fact that Mrs. Figg couldn't stay with her. They're in the car and Piers and Dudley are making fun of her and insulting her but she doesn't give two _damns_ of what these two idiots were talking about. She's too focused on the fact that it was the time of the truth. If she remembers correctly, in this trip, Harry had spoken to a snake which was then later on revealed to be his Parseltongue ability and then he had caused his cousin to be stuck inside the snake's cage.

It would be an experimentation and if it worked, then maybe, she does have magic within her.

When they arrive at their destination, she doesn't care to look at the other animals. She follows the Dursleys because if she goes alone and out of their sight, she'll receive probably some punishment and she doesn't really want to be yelled at, _thank you very much._ It takes time to get to the reptile part, mainly because Dudley wants to see every single thing and make fun of it but when they actually do get there, she moves immediately towards the big glass cage where so infamous cobra was. She eyes the animal, who still remains asleep and looks from one side to the other. No one is looking.

"Uh, hello?" she tries but it's still English. How do you even speak it anyway? Does she have to _actually_ hiss?

The cobra blinks its eyes open and raises its head to stare at her.

Oh, the hell with it. She'll try hissing, "Uh, how do I do this? C-can you underssstand me?"

And she feels silly. And must look silly. She looks around to see if anyone's staring at her but the people around her are focused on the animals. She looks back to the snake.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this," she sighs, shaking her head. What was she _thinking?_ She eyes the snake, which is still staring at her and decides to try one more time, "Can you understand me?"

And then milagoriusly, the snake nods its head as if responding and she feels something burst inside her which she doesn't know if it's relief or fear. And she didn't even notice a change in the way she spoke so she doesn't really know if she had spoken Parseltongue or if the snake just nods because it's responsive to people talking.

She'll probably never know.

She stares at the snake, finding it surprisingly beautiful. She wasn't that big of fan of them Before but then again, she'd never see them in the flesh. The scales have this shine to them and she kind of wants to touch it. Or maybe just have the snake for herself.

"I wish I could take you with me," she sighs, eyes still on the snake's, "You'd be a very nice, er, fellow."

The snake nods again as if agreeing with her.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

She jumps at the sudden shout and doesn't even have time to think before she's thrown to the floor, her ass hitting the floor and her stomach burning in pain from the punch she had received. She looks up to find Piers and Dudley with his big, fat hands on the glass, eyes locked on the cobra.

She feels all the anger she's felt all these years in their 'care' surface and it makes her blood boil. All the anger _and_ hate. Yes, she spent her whole life trying her best to ignore them but that doesn't really stop her from hating them for the way they've treated her (treated _Harry_ ) and feeling like they deserved something _really_ bad happen to them. Oh, she hates them _so_ much. She wishes she could've done _something_ to them but that would've ruined her cover.

Oh, how she _wishes_ she could've done something to them. _Hurt_ them like they've hurt her.

 _Hurt them hurt them hurt them **hurt them**_

She feels something _humming_ _around her_ , on her skin and it's almost comforting and then- she watches the glass between Dudley and the snake _shatter_ in tiny pieces.

The response to it was almost instantly. Screams erupt around her but she can't take her eyes away from the screaming and crying boy that had fallen backwards when the glass shattered. His face is covered in blood, cuts everywhere and there's tiny pieces of glass sticking out from his skin. But it wasn't just his face. His shirt was now teared apart because of the glass and filled with blood as well. Piers seems to be in some sort of alike state but she just decided to focus on her cousin.

She can feel her body _ache_ as well, probably because of some glass that hit her too but she just couldn't focus on that. She just focuses on the thrilling feeling that is going through her body, the way something is going through her veins. The way she can feel something around her. It feels _exhilarating_. It's like a bottle had burst open inside her. _Is this what magic feels like?_ , she thinks to herself feeling the warmth around her. She can't see anything on her but she can _feel_ it.

She has magic.

 _She has magic_!

And even as the Dursleys cuddle around the bleeding Dudley screaming along with some people and as the snake is freed, she feels a smile curl in her lips.

" _What did you_ _do_?!" Vernon yells at her, when his wife is holding their son as they wait for the ambulance to come.

She just stares at him, the smile still on her face. He keeps yelling stuff at her and grabbing her by the shirt, but she just remains quiet and when the ambulance does finally appear, his attention is on it and taking the opportunity, she just _runs_.

She runs out of the Zoo, going through the barricade of people that were surrounding them.

She just runs and doesn't turn back.

* * *

 **It took so long for this chapter, damn. There were times in which I didn't know what to write and I had a major writer's block and just ugh.**

 **Writer's block is a pain in the ass.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I still don't own anything. It all pretty much still belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

 **I'm sorry for having taken so long to publish this.** **Life sucks honestly and blocks in my thinking for stories suck even more.**

* * *

She only stops when she's sure she's far, _far_ away from the Zoo.

Taking uneven breaths and feeling her pulse skyrocketing, she looks around and thinks to herself, _maybe I should've thought this through._

Because now, she's lost in the middle of a city she knows _nothing_ about and maybe she should've thought about what she was to do after she ran and-

No, she _had_ to get out there. She couldn't live one more day with those people, she'd go insane. What they did to her - the starvation, locking her inside the cupboard - was unforgivable. How did Harry handle it? He had handled _seventeen_ years with them. Well, eleven and then the summers after school. But still. She has _ten_ years with that family and has the urge to just go back and _hurt_ them because they just can't keep in living like _they didn't abuse a child and they_ need _to be_ **punished** -

Something nearby _explodes_ and she jumps, along with a couple of people that are passing her.

She feels the same _humming_ as before - her magic - around her like a second skin and wills herself to not explode anything else.

 _Control_ , she thinks. Controlcontrol _control_ ** _control_**!

Something else explodes and there's a shriek. She takes a deep breath and runs away from any prying eyes. Going through the streets of a city you never really knew or saw before, she realizes, makes everything much worse. She doesn't know where to go. Where is she?

She's completely lost.

 _Should I ask for directions?,_ she muses to herself but then deletes that idea immediately.

Where would she go? She has nowhere to go, except back to the Dursleys and she's _not_ going back there.

After a while, her legs begin aching and the injuries because of the glass dry out but still hurt when she moves. She should've treated them right away. Are they gonna leave scars? Well, another scar to the collection, she supposes, remembering the lightning bolt scar on her forehead.

Her lips and throat's dry and she just wants to drink something and eat because her stomach has been growling for the past hour like crazy and squeezing itself painfully. But no having any money on her is a slight problem. She curls up against a wall and shuts her eyes, grabbing her hair. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out._ She repeats those words over and over until she's calmer and the humming of magic disappears.

It's weird how empty she feels without the magic being there around her, exploding things. It's hard to explain but it had been like it was _everywhere._ Magic was literally everything; it was like air, it was like _her._ It _was_ her. She's _magic_. Magic _is_ her. It's _inside_ her and she can access it any time.

She focus on a small stand that is a coupled of meters away from her and tries to think about how it felt when the magic awakened just a couple of hours ago to make something happen but there's _nothing_. She doesn't feel anything.

Before, she had felt it rushing through her body, humming happily around her like a second skin . . . she had felt _power_ when the glass had shattered and she had watched Dudley get hit by the shards and cutting through his skin.

 _She had felt so powerful._

She _could_ be so, _so_ powerful.

Magic had felt so _good._ Yes, it was out of control but it had felt so, so _good_ to wield it and _have_ it. And she wants to feel it again and again and _forever_.

Magic hadn't existed in her world (unless it was those cheap tricks which were kind of impressing, if she has to admit) and now that she saw it in person, _felt_ it running through her veins ( _real_ magic and hers, all hers), she wants to do it again; to _feel_ it again.

Does she want to go to Hogwarts and learn more about magic? Not really but it's the safest place for her, she supposes. She could train her magic and control there, find ways to keep herself _out_ of trouble because _hell_ , Harry and his friends _always_ ended up in the middle of everything. Ridiculous honestly. She's _not_ gonna do that. She's gonna be as invisible as she can be. Well, as invisible as she can be being The Boy ( _Girl_ ) Who Lived. She doesn't want to get involved in _anything_ and much less getting involved with the whole thing revolving around Voldemort. If she can have her way, he won't ever return.

But somehow, she has a feeling she doesn't have much of a say in that particular part of this life.

Prophecies and pre-determined destinies are hard to fight.

She decides that just staying curled up in here isn't the way so she pulls herself up and tries to find a coffee shop or just a place where she can just _drink_ something because hell, she's thirsty. It wasn't hard to find a small one so she quickly crosses the road, ignoring all of the people that stare at her and walks inside, the bell above the door ringing and attracting way too much attention for her to handle. Keeping her head down, she moves towards the counter and looks up to the young looking waitress, who is looking at her in concern.

"Can I have a glass of water, please?" she asks, not really looking at the girl in the eyes.

The waitress looks at her colleague and then back at her, "Y-yes, of course but a-are you okay?"

She feels a spark of annoyance at the question but the girl was just concerned so she quickly gives her smile, nodding, "Yes, I just need a glass of water please."

The other gives a nod and proceeds to fill a glass cup and gives it to her. She thanks her quietly and goes to sit down on the table by the corner, sipping occasionally on the warm water. She doesn't know how long she stays there, ignoring people staring at her and sending the waitress who _keeps_ asking if she's okay away. The sky has turned into a mix of blue and orange and she thinks that the sun is setting. _It's been a long time_ , she muses, looking out of the window.

"Can I sit with you?"

Startled, she looks up - a middle aged woman is standing in front of her, a steaming cup in her hand and a warm smile on her face. Dark brown hair is framing her face and her unusual grey eyes are locked on her emerald green ones. She shifts awkwardly and looks back down to her cup. The sound of the chair's feet scratching against the floor makes her shiver and curl into herself and it's a clear sign that the woman is now sitting beside her.

"Why are you alone?" the woman asks quietly, sipping from her own drink.

She simply shrugs.

A silence falls between them until the woman tries again, "Do you live nearby? Is that why you're here alone?"

She just shrugs again, clearly showing her that she does _not_ want to answer.

There's a small sound - could be a sigh or something else, she's not sure - and she shifts some more, locking her hands underneath her thighs; something she does when she's nervous.

"What's your name?"

Is this woman _dumb_? When is she gonna realize that she's not gonna say anything? She sips at her water once more.

"I wanna help you," the words sound desperate and she's suddenly even more suspicious because _no one_ would insist so much with a stranger, "You look like you need help _badly._ "

She figures that maybe she should leave now and get away as fast as she can, so she rises to her feet, leaves the glass on the table and sprints across the small cafe and makes her way out as quickly as she can.

A hand grabs onto her shoulder before she can get far and she winces in pain, yelping and there's a murmured and apologetic, "Sorry," and when she turns, there's the damn woman _again_. Why can't she just leave her _alone_?

"I don't want your help," she snaps, knowing she sounds childish but doesn't care about that.

The woman frowns, her hand still hanging in the air. After a few seconds, it goes down, "You _clearly_ need help," the words have a touch of impatience and annoyance now, she notices, "And I'm not heartless to leave a _child alone_ when she's clearly hurt."

" _But I don't want your help,_ " she says, slowly and word by word as if the woman was a young child who didn't understand.

"Then I'll call Child Services."

She stills, looks at the woman carefully and doesn't let the surprise she's feeling show up on her face. _What_?

"You being out here alone can mean many things," the woman says, with a knowing smile growing on her lips, "Either you're an orphan or abandoned child or maybe you _have_ a family but maybe you're not happy with them and just ran away? Or maybe . . . you're not happy with them because they don't . . . treat you right?"

She can't help but flinch as the woman's words hit spot on. She takes a step back, hands shaking.

 _Well played, woman,_ she thinks. How cunning of her to use that against her.

The woman catches the small movement and her eyes soften, holding a pale hand out, "I just wanna help you."

She considers her options. Refuse and have this woman call the services and they take her back to the Dursleys, a place she definitely does _not_ call home (never has, never will) so the protective charm or whatever the house had because of Petunia being of Lily's blood and whatever that mambo jumbo was didn't matter anymore. She's clearly no longer safe there.

Or go with this woman, even though it's not safe either but now nowhere is safe for her. She doesn't have a safe place for her to be in, except maybe Hogwarts but she won't go there until she receives her letter.

And what if this is woman is just saying that she wants to help and ends up taking her _back_ _to the Dursleys_?

 _Let's just go,_ she thinks to herself with a snap, _and get this over with. If something happens. I'll fucking blow everything up._

Decision made, she nods but doesn't take the woman's hand.

"My name is Maryse," the woman says, in an attempt to make conversation, she realizes, as they start to walk, "What is yours?"

Oh, she's _definitely_ not saying it, especially when her name is the way it is and she doesn't know who this woman is. She remains quiet and from the sigh she hears, the woman momentarily gives up.

 _What if this woman was ordered to find her?_

The thought crosses her mind then and it nearly makes her stop but she doesn't. She remains calm and steady, so it doesn't raise any suspicions. _What if_ she is? Maybe the Minister of Magic figured out that the Girl Who Lived was wondering around (because of the Tracer, she remembers faintly. Every wizard and witch has a trace so it could be a possibility that this woman was sent to get her) and sent someone to get her, someone that would be able to get to her. She wasn't that hard to be recognized by wizards and witches on the street. Her damn lightning bolt scar is a dead give away.

 _It could be_ , she reasons, eyeing the back of the woman's head.

The woman doesn't seem . . . _magical_ , for the lack of better word but then again, neither did any wizard that'd walk in the Muggle world, she's sure. And would there be a way for her to know? Could she sense it maybe? _Can_ wizards or witches feel another person's magic? She can feel _her own_ magic, humming pleasantly under her skin, ready to surface anytime but with the woman she can't really fell anything? She doesn't really have any memory of wizards being able to feel each other's magic having been mentioned in the books?

But then again, her memories from _Before_ seem to be _fading_.

It's getting harder to remember any moments from when she was a child _Before_ or when she went to school or when she worked. When she tries to recall back, the first memories that surface is with Lily and James and although she's not mad about that (no matter what, they're still her new parents and did a better job than the ones from _Before_ ), it's frustrating that her memories are getting all mingled and some of them fading.

She still knows the main events that will happen but details about other stuff seem to flee from her mind and she doesn't know how to stop it.

 _I can't_ , it's her definitive thought because there isn't anything she can realistically do to stop memories from fading.

She just has to deal with what she _can_ remember.

"Uhm . . ."

She looks up at the woman - _Maryse_ \- and stops a few feet away from where she's standing. They're in front of a building with at least seven floors. She doesn't recognize it, nor does she recognize the street but then again, she doesn't really know anything about where she is. _Maybe I got it wrong,_ she wonders to herself when she observes the normal and mundane building, _maybe she's just a young woman that wanted to help me_.

"Shall we?" the woman is saying, reaching for something on her purse - keys.

She waits until the door is open and until Maryse is inside to get inside. The inside of the building is . . . rotten, to say the least. It reminds her of the building where her apartment had been _Before_. One look at this place and it's clear that's its one of those places where people that don't get much out of their work can live.

They go up two floors and Maryse is opening one of the doors, moving aside to let her inside, eyes on her.

 _Since I'm here_ , she thinks and gets to ready to do something should _anything_ happen, her magic waking and bubbling under her skin at the thought.

"Would you like something to eat?" the woman asks her and before she can refuse, her stomach growls quite loudly, making the grown woman smile, "I think I have something from yesterday . . ."

She doesn't listen to what the woman is saying. Something _feels_ wrong. She can't quite point out what it is but there's _something_ and it makes her alert and her magic flares up on instinct when her breathing gets harsher.

There's a _knock_ in the door and she's flying away from it at lightning speed.

 _Crap,_ she thinks, _this was a bad, bad badbadbad idea._

"Wonder who could it be?" Maryse mumbles to herself, sounding quite confused as she moves towards the door and grabs the handle.

She hides behind a door as she hears the sound of the door opening and then she hears a soft, "Good afternoon."

"Uh, good afternoon. Can I help you?" Maryse sounds confused so it's not someone she knows.

 _Who the fuck is it?,_ she wonders and wants to peak but she _shouldn't_.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I believe you can. I'm looking for a young girl, you see."

She _freezes_ and holds her breath, her magic humming and trying to surface as panic begins to spread over her body.

"I'm afraid there's not young girl here," Maryse says, voice strong, "You're looking in the wrong house."

Theres a pause and then, "No, I believe this is the right house. Miss Potter, I know you're there."

 _What the fuck_ , she thinks when she hears her last name being spoken so easily by this person. Who the fuck is it? She doesn't recognize the voice. It sounds old and warm but she doesn't know _anyone_ \- _Wait._ _No._ It can't be. But _he'd_ do something like this, wouldn't he? When it's about his Golden Boy (Girl, in this case) _he'd_ do anything to place her exactly where he wants. She forces her feet to move and she's moving out of hiding and she raises her chin and her eyes meet light blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles and all she could think about was, _fuck_.

There were many outcomes she thought about but this one, having _Albus Dumbledore_ personally coming to get her, passes all of them.

The old man smiles, when she moves forward towards the door, "Miss Potter, it's a pleasure to make your a-"

She _slams_ the door on his face before he can finish.

* * *

 **This chapter was quite hard to write and I'm not completely satisfied with the result but it's how I wanted the story to go so I'm leaving it like this.**

 **Also, I may or not have a small grudge against Albus. Can you tell?**


End file.
